Wrapped in Linen, Soaked in Reality
by Riot-Artist
Summary: A short one-shot, dark story of the midseason finale. Caryl. I was trying out some new writing styles, so let me know what you think! Sorry about the length, but its just a quick one!


**Heya! So, I'm sorry I've been gone so long! School and writers block are the devils. Anyway, here's a shirt little thing that I wrote in my Sociology and Psychology classes. **

**I'm working on another story, AU with Caryl! So be looking forth at in the upcoming month! **

**Enjoy! ~RiotArtist**

It was a basic thing. A take and give. That's how they worked; one was caring and positive, one was ruthless and pessimistic. Neither acknowledged the stark personalities, or how the rest of the group would give them odd looks as they interacted. Well, maybe not odd. Calculating, one might say. Thoughtful, another good descriptor. People didn't know how to respond to them as a pair, a single unit. Many had figured out how to approach them as they're halves, they're own person. Yet, at the same time, the other half wasn't far. Whether literally or figuratively, one always had the aura of the other encasing their own, making the one buzz and seemingly glow - in their unique way.

Now, by the old hospital, everyone couldn't ignore the elephant crushing their chests. A blonde, buried with a bullet in her brain. A silver-haired woman, broken in a refreshingly new way from what she was used to. And a brunette, blue-eyed man, broken in a way he never wanted to be. Guilt shrouded the latter's thoughts and emotions, sinking itself into his bones, replacing marrow with sorrow. He had lost her. Just as he left his other-half get away. He had gotten his partner back, of the other's own volition, but the little one he had looked after as a sister - gone. No amount of will power would bring this one back.

Covered in cloth, a few strands of blonde peeking from the folds, blood blooming across the back of the head, the little one's sister held her in her lap. She stroked the cloth slowly, and it seemed as though the end of the action meant the end of her sanity. The older sister's partner stood by, with a respectful air to it as not to disturb his lover. He knew what she needed, at least he hoped he knew. He hoped...and for the first time in a year and a half, he actually considered praying.

The leader and his children stayed off to the side, just as the partner, keeping a respectful distance. The eldest child of the leader had dug a grave for the one not much older than him. Now he held his own little sister, and tried not to imagine what he would be like if that was her wrapped in linen.

The silver-haired had gravitated back to her other half, much like her moon to the sun. He was rigid, tears covering his cheeks, making them glisten with reality. Droplets caught in his scruff, glimmering amongst the harsh sun of Atlanta, Georgia. The woman stood by the man, making no visible move of comfort. Their own auras mixed and soothed each other, coiling and spiraling like the caduceus' snakes wrapped around their own rod. The rod of these two was their sanity, and the halves clung to it as if to kill it.

The doctor and nurses and patients of the hospital stood at the door, eyes cloaked in grief and confusion. Some had interest masked by grief, the curiosity of man getting the better of them. Questions ran through their head as they watched the scene.

Not only were questions regarding these abrasive strangers consuming their thoughts, but also the fear of the world. Some had been in the hospital a year, or since the beginning, and many were terrified of the real world. From what of the real world they had seen that were brought by these strangers...it made them want to hide under their blankets and forget the world around their building didn't exist, as if they were a void in space, drifting along their own path of the universe. Some swore they could see the magnificent colors of the many galaxies and stars, or could almost feel the pull of a black hole vortex. Stars and milky-ways danced around their own world, blanketing them in whatever safety they found in an endless void of nothing.

Denial. That's what they covered their eyes with. The red cloth that felt like satin to the touch but acted as a brick wall for the wearer. That cloth had been marinated in denial was what they hid themselves behind. The cloth of denial was what lined their precious world, but the linen of reality would be tied as a noose, caressing the flesh of their neck and breaking their spines with exact precision. It would enjoy listening to the wisps of final breaths tinged with regret a

Some didn't have that cloth as a noose, but as a handkerchief, stowed safely on their person always. It was a definite. There was no cloth around their eyes, permitting them from seeing the reality around them.

The halves finally looked at each other. Each sorrow one had was shared by the other. Each feeling of pain or guilt one had, the other had as well.

The two, in a sense, were in their own world. The male clung to the female, his body racked with sobs. The hand of the female stroked the back of the male, trying her best to soothe the ache his heart felt. Their auras around them still danced and licked at each other, almost like playful dolphins getting to know the other.

The area was filled with mourning, shock, and denial. Some may never get over what had happened that day, in the old Georgia hospital.

The walkers around the hospital seemed to stay back, as if even they knew not to intrude on the celebration of a loss of a family member.

And yet, the two halves remained together, their heart strong and beating. Together, definite, and always.


End file.
